


To keep it all the year

by middlemarch



Category: Sanditon (TV 2019), Sanditon - Jane Austen
Genre: 6 Sanditon Valentines, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brothers, Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Holiday Inn, Holly - Freeform, Humor, Inspired by Hallmark Christmas Movies, Meet-Cute, Mistletoe, Romance, Snow, Tumblr: Sanditon Creative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22724737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/middlemarch/pseuds/middlemarch
Summary: Liza was coming up the next weekend, because he'd agreed to go skiing. He had a week on his own. Seven days.
Relationships: Charlotte Heywood/Sidney Parker, Sidney Parker & Tom Parker
Comments: 13
Kudos: 28





	To keep it all the year

“Hotel de Noel? Let me guess, Christmas Inn was taken. Tom, this is the stupidest fucking idea you’ve ever had and that’s saying something,” Sidney said, looking around the lobby, festooned with evergreen garlands and red velvet ribbons and fake snow. Lots and lots of fake snow and glittering snowflakes, like a 13 year old Instagrammer named Ava Rose had run amok. “Also, it’s been done. Holiday Inn? The movie?”

“It’s perfect, Sidney, you have to see that—the small-town setting, Main Street decked out in lights, carriage rides and sleigh-bells, jingle bells,” Tom said, transported by his own words. If only his investors were as easily persuaded, Sidney couldn’t help thinking.

“Maybe in December,” Sidney said. “How does it play in July?”

“Christmas is a state of mind, not a date,” Tom said sunnily. 

“And you’ve got a teenager at the front desk, totally incompetent, she couldn’t find my reservation, and I’m sure the chef thinks putting crushed candy cane on everything will be ‘so festive, omigod!’” Sidney said, going into his falsetto and adding a dose of vocal fry to really push the point home. 

“Why don’t you try the goddamn amuse-bouche before you start ranting?” said a slight, auburn-haired woman in an apron. She nearly pushed the tray she held into his chest, which would have ruined the cashmere sweater Liza had bought for his birthday. He picked up what looked like a chestnut with something mousse-y on it and popped it in his mouth. _Fuck._ Foie gras, sautéed shallots, and something with a little bite, the chestnut roasted, the flaked sea-salt melting on his tongue. Gorgeous, nothing he’d ever tasted before—not in New York, London or Milan.

“Yeah. Stay the hell out of my kitchen, I don’t care who the fuck you are,” the apparently genius chef said. Sidney made a note to text Will about her; his friend was always looking for a new chef to showcase in his online foodie mag Babington’s, and obscenity didn’t faze him.

“I’m sure Sidney will want to apologize, Estzi. Once his mouth isn’t full,” Tom said.

“I never told you you could call me that,” presumably Estzi said sharply. 

“Sorry. Esther,” Tom corrected himself. “And Charlotte’s not a teenager, Sidney. She’s a grad student, philosophy, God love her. Actually, the kids love her and Mary too. We’ve finally gotten a regular date-night and I can’t tell you how much difference it makes.”

Charlotte, a few feet away at the front desk, took a moment to wave at Sidney and raise an eyebrow. He felt less like a pervert for being attracted to her now that she was at least 25 but he couldn’t have made a good impression and he resented it. He also resented how appealing she was, dark hair falling down from some attempt at a chignon, the sprig of holly above her name-tag just emphasizing a décolletage any woman would have killed for. A sweet smile he hadn’t deserved. Philosophy, that was a real career path; she had to be smart enough to get the degree and idealistic enough to think it would mean anything. 

“I can’t believe you think this is going to work, Tom. Even for you, this is a stretch,” Sidney said, mollified by the exquisitely delicious amuse-bouche and Charlotte No-Last-Name’s dark eyes.

“I don’t think it, I know it! I have faith but I don’t even need it. It’s Christmas, Sidney. Christmas can do anything,” Tom said confidently.

“We’ll see,” Sidney muttered. Charlotte walked over to him and handed him a room key. Someone had cleverly wood-worked a cluster of holly and mistletoe and used it as the fob. Someone, definitely not Tom, had an eye for details, high-end ones that guests would find irresistible. 

“You forgot this,” she said. She had a low voice, a lovely contralto. If only she wasn’t looking at him like he was jock-itch. Or a centipede made of slime-mold. It didn’t matter. Nothing did, nothing was going to make a difference. Not Tom’s plan nor Mary’s kind cajoling, not Charlotte’s acute gaze, not Esther’s best dessert. Not even Christmas.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Dickens (of course!) Written for Day #5 of Sanditon Valentine Challenge, free choice. I went full on Hallmark holiday movie trope.


End file.
